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Description

Something I started at about 9 in the morning and finished about 1:45pm. Tried something more realistic this time.
I'm proud about everything but the mane. There's just something off with it and it would have taken me too much time to fix. But still, this really gives off the feel I wanted, so I'm happy.
Reference: img14.deviantart.net/1da7/i/20…

Story (389 words)
In response to: comments.deviantart.com/1/6677…
-

Ash stood several lengths away from the red stallion, who thankfully kept his distance in the pouring yet light rain. He seemed to understand that she wanted nothing to do with him. Not yet, anyway. Not so close after. . .

The point was, she followed him for protection, and that was it. Well, protection and the colt. She turned her head to the weanling, who clumsily ate the slippery grass with a certain bit of pride in his eyes. He had made it worth everything. He had kept close to her, and though oblivious to her mourning, he had helped her through the last few days.

Not that she was done mourning. No, she would mourn for a while. Not only for her colt, but her herd. Just the memory of them made her heart both seize with sudden warmth as well as fall with cold sadness. Them, the biggest herd in the Valley, not only in numbers but in size. Valiant mares with the spirit of a wildcat who raised colts into stallions the likes most others never saw. And then there was their stallion - a wise gentleman with the coat of rushing water, the eyes of an eagle, and the strength of a god. Her lost filly was the first foal she had the honor the bear for him, and now she was gone.

Humans had scattered them. Not for capture, but to separate them. She had run in a lone direction with her filly, only to run into that horrible, horrible flood. She wished she had not survived. She wished she had drowned along with her foal, dishonored as she was for not sticking with the herd and losing the only connection she had with her stallion -

The red stallion was closer to her. He was grazing, but she could tell he was keeping an eye on her. Her tensed shoulders relaxed, if only slightly.

The red stallion was small and unspectacular. Not to mention he saved her from her wanted fate. But, she supposed, maybe that proved something. She knew he had been safe before he had gone to save her. Yet, still, with bravery that could have contested most stallions, he had saved her. He had kept her safe.

For that, he had her respect. And for that, she would stay.

Description

Something I started at about 9 in the morning and finished about 1:45pm. Tried something more realistic this time.
I'm proud about everything but the mane. There's just something off with it and it would have taken me too much time to fix. But still, this really gives off the feel I wanted, so I'm happy.
Reference: img14.deviantart.net/1da7/i/20…

Story (389 words)
In response to: comments.deviantart.com/1/6677…
-

Ash stood several lengths away from the red stallion, who thankfully kept his distance in the pouring yet light rain. He seemed to understand that she wanted nothing to do with him. Not yet, anyway. Not so close after. . .

The point was, she followed him for protection, and that was it. Well, protection and the colt. She turned her head to the weanling, who clumsily ate the slippery grass with a certain bit of pride in his eyes. He had made it worth everything. He had kept close to her, and though oblivious to her mourning, he had helped her through the last few days.

Not that she was done mourning. No, she would mourn for a while. Not only for her colt, but her herd. Just the memory of them made her heart both seize with sudden warmth as well as fall with cold sadness. Them, the biggest herd in the Valley, not only in numbers but in size. Valiant mares with the spirit of a wildcat who raised colts into stallions the likes most others never saw. And then there was their stallion - a wise gentleman with the coat of rushing water, the eyes of an eagle, and the strength of a god. Her lost filly was the first foal she had the honor the bear for him, and now she was gone.

Humans had scattered them. Not for capture, but to separate them. She had run in a lone direction with her filly, only to run into that horrible, horrible flood. She wished she had not survived. She wished she had drowned along with her foal, dishonored as she was for not sticking with the herd and losing the only connection she had with her stallion -

The red stallion was closer to her. He was grazing, but she could tell he was keeping an eye on her. Her tensed shoulders relaxed, if only slightly.

The red stallion was small and unspectacular. Not to mention he saved her from her wanted fate. But, she supposed, maybe that proved something. She knew he had been safe before he had gone to save her. Yet, still, with bravery that could have contested most stallions, he had saved her. He had kept her safe.

For that, he had her respect. And for that, she would stay.